Routines
by AndAnotherOneBitesTheDust
Summary: Tim and Damian don't have the best relationship, but they do happen to do one thing that can be considered a weird form of... bonding? Alfred knows already, and Bruce is wondering if his family is going to re-define the meaning of normal. (Tim curses... once, so...Yep. Full of Bat-fluff) [Complete]


**A/N: So here's a fluffy One-shot that's going to be seperate from the Bat-Clan Brothers thread (like some others I'm planning) with the middle Bird (Tim. I think of Jason as the middle Bat), and the youngest Bird (Damian).**

 **Enjoy**

 **Routines**

Bruce was sitting at the island in the kitchen, reading today's paper while taking the occasional sip of his black coffee.

Hearing shuffling feet, Bruce didn't need to look up to know it was Timothy who'd just entered the room. He was lighter than Jason and Dick, but made a bit more noise than Damian. "Good morning, Tim," he greeted.

He received a mumbled 'Hello' in response and Bruce could hear a cup of coffee being poured.

"Good morning, Master Timothy," Alfred's gentle voice greeted as he entered the room silently. Bruce folded the newspaper, placing it to his right as Alfred placed a plate with sunny-side-up eggs, bacon, and grits in front of him.

Alfred was given a smile from Tim. "Morning Alfred. Sleep well?"

The old Butler returned the expression. "Indeed, sir. Yourself?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah. Good as can be expected." The fifteen-year-old took a seat to Bruce's left; a plate with scrambled eggs and two pancakes plus a bottle of syrup being placed before him. Tim again smiled up at Alfred. "Thanks."

"Of course, Master Tim." Looking to Bruce, who'd been watching the two fondly, Alfred asked, "Shall I go see if Master Damian is awake, sir?"

Bruce gave Alfred a small smile. "If it isn't a bother. Thank you, old friend."

"Not at all, Master Bruce. Excuse me." Alfred vanished up the stairs, leaving Bruce and Tim in blissful silence as they ate.

Damian appeared with Titus not much later. "Father," he greeted with a nod. "Pennyworth summoned me for breakfast."

"That's too bad," Tim muttered. He viciously stabbed at a group of eggs, glaring down at his plate now. "He shoulda let you starve, Demon."

Damian scowled at Tim and Bruce sighed. So this was how the day was going to start. Jason wasn't here and yet Bruce could feel the migraine starting. Odd. "Shut it Drake. I do not see why you are here - you have an apartment. Go waste oxygen over there and allow me to breathe unpolluted air."

Tim snorted. "Good luck with that. We live in Gotham, dip-shit. There _is_ no such thing as unpolluted air."

"For the mere factor that _you_ live here. I am _certain_ that if you leave, the air will be _much_ safer to inhale." Damian took a seat and began eating his food, slipping Titus some of the sausage on his plate. Ace whined as he walked over to Tim, pushing his muzzle into the teen's hand.

Despite himself, Tim smiled at the dog, scratching his ears. "Whatever you say, Demon. At least I can reach the shelf with the cups."

Damian launched himself at Tim with a snarl and Bruce sighed, massaging his temples with his fingertips as Tim was tackled off of the chair. They both began wrestling on the ground, Damian screaming death threats and Tim yelling back. Titus and Ace just sat there, watching.

Bruce sighed and stood up, grabbing them by the collars of their shirts and separating them forcefully. "Enough! Damian, finish your food. Tim, go get dressed for school. Dick's taking you today. Damian, Alfred will be taking you today so when you finish eating get dressed."

Damian scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yes Father."

Tim shrugged as best he could. "Sure."

Bruce set them both down and walked away, muttering under his breath.

"Sir." Bruce looked over at Alfred. "They do this every morning."

The billionaire blinked slowly. "Every morning?"

Alfred nodded. "Yes, sir. It is a type of morning routine, I believe."

Bruce sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. "Thank you, Alfred, for putting up with this on a dialy basis."

The Butler smiled. "Of course sir. They are practically my grandchildren. I am happy to do so."

Later, when Tim returned from school, Bruce asked the teen about this 'morning routine' and Damian had. Tim shrugged.

"Well, it's basically the same thing every day. I wake up, drink some coffee in peaceful silence, Alfred wakes Damian up, he insults me, I insult him back, he tries to kill me, Alfred stops it, then that's it. Oh, and Damian usually booby traps my room." Tim then meticulously made his way up the stairs to him room with Ace close on his heels, pausing every now and again to check for hidden traps.

Bruce just stared after him. The boy had described the daily attempted murder like it was nothing. Then again, it happened every day so it would make sense for Tim to be so nonchalant about it...

But his life is threatened on a daily basis by his little brother. That is _not_ normal...

Oh. Unless it's Jason threatening Tim's life. Then again, Jason hasn't been threatening Tim at all recently.. So the previous statement still stands.

When Damian arrived from school, Bruce asked him the same question he'd asked Tim. Damian frowned and tutted.

"-Tt- Father, I do not understand why you're wasting time interrogating me about this morning routine I engage in with Drake. I suppose you have already asked him, and he has provided an insufficient answer. -Tt- I would not be surprised, the fool is so incompetent. Father, if you wish to know, I am woken by Pennyworth for breakfast and Drake is usually already drinking his liquid poison. I greet him and he insults me, I respond accordingly, he replies in a manner that prompts me to attack, Pennyworth intervenes in time to preserve Drake's life, then I am driven to that infernal place called _school_. May I be excused to my quarters, Father?" Damian tapped his foot against the floor with a frown on his face. Titus had walked over while Damian had spoken, and now the boy ran his fingers through the dog's rough fur.

Bruce could only nod and watch as his son disappeared up the stairs with the Great Dane following him. "That isn't normal," Bruce muttered. "This shouldn't be normal." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What am I going to do about this?"

Nothing. Bruce did nothing about it. He'd thought about it all day, he'd thought about it on patrol, he'd thought about it as he went to sleep... And in the morning? He allowed it to happen again. What was he going to do about it?

Even if he told them to stop, after a while the routine would start back up again. Bruce decided not to bother even trying as a result.

So in the morning when Damian entered the kitchen, Bruce simply said, "No booby traps," without looking up from the paper.


End file.
